


Patching Him Up

by Mcnamcj



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcnamcj/pseuds/Mcnamcj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots of various characters taking care of a hurt or sick Steve</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Littlest Punk - Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes care of a badly beaten pre serum Steve

 “Stevie, I think you need the hospital,” said Bucky as he hefted his friend up the stairs. Steve Rogers might’ve been a squirt of a man, but when he was nearly dead weight in Bucky’s arms, even he managed to feel like a sack of bricks.

“M’fine, Buck,” murmured Steve. The words would’ve been more convincing if they hadn’t been accompanied by a mouthful of blood.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know,” said Bucky worriedly as he kicked away the rock near Steve’s front door, shifting his quivering friend to his other arm as he bent down to retrieve the key he knew was hidden there.

“That’s what I have you for,” gasped Steve, the kid’s breath raspy and wet in Bucky’s ear “Put me back together.”

“Shut up,” said Bucky, struggling to keep Steve upright as he tried to unlock the front door. “Punk.”

A smile flickered across Steve’s features as Bucky managed to get them inside and drag Steve to the dusty old couch in Steve’s living room. He settled Steve onto it as gently as he could, but in spite of his care, Steve still shuddered and winced at the movement. “Just hang on,” said Bucky, wiping a bit of blood off Steve’s cheek with his thumb before heading into the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink before returning to the living room to his tiny friend.

Steve looked half dead. Both of his eyes were nearly swollen shut, his nose had been turned into a bloody pulp and a steady stream of blood was leaking from his mouth. Bucky opened up the first aid kit and took out a nearly thread bare cloth that had soaked up more of Steve’s blood than he cared to remember over the years. He used it to mop up the mess of his face, turning the off white of the cloth into crimson almost immediately. It took him twenty minutes to wipe away all the blood and disinfect the wounds on Steve’s pummeled face. Steve had remained stoic throughout the process, only crying out when Bucky treated a particularly ragged wound.

“Hang in there” whispered Bucky as he finished up on Steve’s face and went to check on the rest of the kid’s body. He lifted up Steve’s shirt and grimaced when he saw the damage.

It wasn’t just the blackened bruises or red splotches of punches and kicks. There were actual boot marks, outlined in purple and red, no doubt the cause of Steve’s stammered and choked breath from countless broken ribs. It made him furious. Not at Steve’s attackers, but at Steve himself. The kid always had to poke the biggest, baddest jerks around. Even if they always deserved it. One day he was afraid it was going to get his friend killed. Especially if Bucky wasn’t around to stop him or take care of him.“What are you gonna do when I ship out, huh?” he asked abruptly, not even sure if Steve was still conscious.

But he was. Of course he was. Steve opened one swollen eye to a tear filled slit. “Smuggle me over there in your duffel bag and we won’t have to find out.”

“You’re small enough to fit.”

“Probably the only way I’ll ever get over there,” said Steve, hacking up a bit of blood.

Bucky groaned as he reached for the bloodied washcloth and wiped it away. “I really should take you to the hospital.”

“Stop fussin’. I’m fine. Feel better already.”

“You never could lie worth a damn.”

“Never saw the point.” Steve’s eye fell shut and he sagged into the couch cushions, passed out cold, his breath wheezy and horrible.

But Bucky knew he’d be alright. He was tougher than he looked. Tougher than anyone Bucky had ever known. The truth was, Bucky wasn’t afraid of what Steve would do without him. Bucky was afraid of what he would do without Steve.


	2. Field Surgery - Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy takes a bullet out of Steve

“Steve, will you bloody well hold still,” commanded Peggy, punctuating the request by adding a firm slap against Steve’s flailing bicep for good measure.

The bullet was buried deep in Steve’s right side, just under his rib cage. It was three days old and the wound itself was nearly healed up. Steve had been too busy aiding the victims of a supply line bombing to bother getting himself treated. Even now, with all the danger passed, Steve didn’t want to waste the resource of a field medic that could be helping a wounded soldier. Instead, he was stuck with Peggy.

Lucky him.

Peggy rested her hand against his abdomen to steady herself and then readied the forceps to fetch the bullet, holding them just over the wound.

Steve shivered and then his entire chest flushed a deep crimson.

“Maybe…ah…maybe I should have one of the guys do this instead,” remarked Steve, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Peggy’s eyes lifted from Steve’s stomach to his eyes, which absolutely refused to meet hers. She suddenly realized what all of the fuss was about and it certainly wasn’t because of the bullet lodged in his side. “Never had a girl put her hands on you like this, have you?”

Steve’s face reddened to match his chest. “What? No…I’ve had…I’m…I’m…lots…”

Peggy took advantage of the distraction and firmly pressed the forceps into the wound in Steve’s side, digging for treasure.

“Ahhh,” breathed Steve, his embarassment forgotten as his whole body stiffened against the pain.

“I can feel it,” said Peggy, the forceps pressing against the bullet inside the wound. She just had to turn the forceps to the right and she’d be able to put Steve out of his misery. One way or another. She carefully twisted the forceps to grab the bullet and Steve’s face turned from red to white, a low moan pouring from lips. “Sorry, sorry,” said Peggy, trying like hell to finish the field surgery and quell the nauseous feeling suddenly churning in her own gut at the thought of having caused Steve pain.

“You’re fine, Peggy. Thanks for doing this,” said Steve, his pain-filled eyes finally rising to meet hers. He tried to add a carefree smile for good measure, but it too matched the agony she saw in his eyes.

This time it was Peggy who had to look away. She focused back on the bullet wound, her hand twisting a centimeter more before she could feel the forceps firmly grasp the bullet. She pulled the bullet out with a quick snapping motion that caused Steve to yelp and utter a curse word she was pretty sure he had no intention of ever using around a lady, let alone her.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he tried to catch his breath.

Peggy paid no attention to the apology, instead grabbing some disinfectant and dabbing at the bloody wound before securing a bandage over top of it.

“Thanks for patching me up,” said Steve, flashing her a lopsided grin, this one bright and dazzling and free from pain.

The smile made her stomach flutter and she couldn’t help the route her eyes began to take as they drifted down his body, taking in the swell of his pecs, the taut muscles of his abs and the flat plain of his stomach. It was her turn to flush red, her cheeks growing hotter with every second.

She quickly grabbed for Steve’s balled up T-shirt and threw it in his face. “Time to get decent, Captain. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

Steve’s smile only grew wider. “Wouldn’t want that.”


	3. Heeded Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes care of a concussed and nauseous Steve after a mission gone bad

Apparently, even super soldiers could get concussions. To be fair, Natasha was impressed that Steve was even alive, let alone conscious. The alien had swung it’s baseball bat like arm at Steve’s head so hard she had been pretty sure it was going to pop right off. Instead, it had left an Ostrich egg on his forehead and so much blood that it looked like he’d barely survived a zombie attack. Then there had been the confusion. Then the dizziness. And of course, there was the nausea.

It was just her luck that Steve and Thor had had an impromptu eating contest that morning at breakfast. Steve had won.

Currently, they were two miles out from base with comms on the fritz. If Iron Man was flying around, he could track Steve by the line of vomit he was leaving behind.

“Ugh,” he groaned at the end of another five minute long retch. He curled over himself, holding his gut and he would’ve fallen over if Natasha hadn’t grabbed his arm to steady him.

“We’re almost there, Rogers, just a few more minutes,” she lied, ruffling a hand through his hair.

He grunted and his body wilted against her as he struggled to catch his breath. “Just leave me.” He let himself slide down her body onto the ground, where he proceeded to curl up into the fetal position and let out a pathetic whimper.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” said Natasha in slight amusement. “Steve Rogers, praying to the porcelain god. Minus the porcelain” It wasn’t that she liked seeing him so miserable, it was just that it was rare to see Steve off his game. He was always the most dependable and resilient in the field. It was sort of humbling to realize that he really was only human.

“Do you know how happy I’d be if this was a hangover?” moaned Steve. She nudged his shoulder.

“Come on, I bet they got good drugs back at base, Cap. The kind that stop you from throwing up or at the very least, make it so you don’t give a damn that you are.”

“Nice try, Nat, but we both know drugs don’t work on me.” He abruptly sat up and began throwing up again, this time barely missing his own legs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Natasha, avoiding the mess and trying her best to ignore the smell. Instead, she focused on him, trying to find a way to make him feel better. She ran a soothing hand up and down his jackknifing back as his body spasmed in torturous misery. Finally, after a few minutes he stopped, collapsing against her, his face a sweaty, dirty mess. She wrapped her arm around him and let him relax against her.

Steve sighed in exhaustion. “I think that was the last of it. Pretty sure I threw up my stomach there,” he joked in a slurred voice, wincing as he wrapped his own arm around his middle.

“Second breakfast isn’t sounding so good now, is it?” joked Natasha.

Steve flinched and shut his eyes. “Not unless you want to see it all over your shoes.”

“Don’t you dare, Rogers. I just bought these.” She wrapped her arm tighter around him and pulled him closer, resting her chin on top of his head.

“Thought we needed to keep moving?” said Steve with such exhaustion she could barely understand the words.

Natasha shrugged. “They’ll find us eventually. Besides, hostiles are down. No more danger. Lets just praise the vomit gods and stay put for now.”

“Amen,” whispered Steve, his head relaxing into her shoulder as he finally lost consciousness.

Normally Natasha would be worried, but she was pretty sure the Captain was going to make it. Thank the gods.


End file.
